Cause he's got me
by pretty-neighbour
Summary: A decade after the events of the show, Ash now stands as the most powerful trainer in a very different world. He returns home with plans of rest, but a rekindled relationship with his oldest friend and the return of old enemies might change that...
1. Prologue

Ash Ketchum strolled lazily along the dusty road leading to Pallet Town, his plodding steps matched by his faithful companion's light jog. He looked down at the small electric mouse Pokemon keeping pace obediently at his heel, smiling as he met Pikachu's eyes. One brief connection like that was enough to impart many years of memories. Ash could still vividly recall the day when he and Pikachu became partners, could still feel that initial shock that established the relationship of respect and trust that he valued so much today. He remembered the Spearow incident that followed and the wonderful moment when Pikachu finally began to understand their potential as a team. And even more vividly now he could recall a moment when, after thinking all hope was lost and resigning himself to a fate of drowning, he felt a fishing hook sink into him and let fate drag him away. "_Yes, that's how it all began…_" Ash thought to himself fondly, "_she just snagged me_."

The girl appeared to be around his age, with orange hair pulled to one ponytail at the side. She dressed without concern to fashion or appearance, although she succeeded at both incidentally, but with function in mind. Her shorts were tight, her shoes sturdy and functional, and she had even gone to the added precaution of wearing suspenders. Had Ash not been dizzy from lack of oxygen and on the verge of passing out, he would have been struck by the girl's natural prettiness and dynamic attire, a definite contrast from the plain and predictable town from which he had came, but he found himself more concerned with the indifference and near contempt that his savior was treating him with. But yes, it was a thing to be treated to, for even in her coldest apathy or most fiery passions, she treated everyone with a kindness and unmistakable love that warmed Ash's heart just to witness. He could still feel the same overwhelming admiration that sprung forth when he realized that the girl's top priority was helping the poor Pokemon in his arms. Even while confronting Ash about the bike that Pikachu demolished, her compassion for the guilty Pokemon outweighed all grievances. Watching her face twist from fury to sympathy in one fluid yet dramatic motion was a common occurrence that Ash secretly delighted in. Many times their petty arguing would boil higher and higher until the sheer irrelevance of the whole thing flipped their emotions to laughter or tears, bringing them even closer through the struggle.

But that was all in the past. A decade of adventures tossed them to all corners of the globe and had them face an unimaginable assortment of people, both friend and foe. Thinking broadly, Ash was overwhelmed with the amount of experiences, both good and bad, that had occurred to him as he journeyed from league to league on his quest to become the Pokemon Master who strode into his hometown today. It seemed unreal that so much could have happened to him. Really, what stuck in his mind most were the seemingly mundane moments. Sitting around a campfire, lying in a tent, walking through endless woods to a hypothetical city that corresponded with no map… And Misty was there through it all. There were times when she was not with them, and his party constantly grew and shrank with friends from all locations, but whenever he was without Misty, he missed her. And when he was with her, he missed her all the more: it was both a blessing and a curse for the young Ash that this wonderful girl with whom he could spend such happy times was so close, and yet always one step too far away. Yes, Ash had always harbored something special for Misty, it rose within his heart every time her fiery temper beckoned it, it swelled into his throat whenever he saw her sad, it rose with his feet on every step and settled into the deep recesses of his brain with the setting sun. It existed, this much was undeniable, but in his youthfulness and vigor, Ash never fully realized what had blossomed between the two.

He stopped at the edge of Pallet Town, surveying the houses rippling in the heat setting sun. Pikachu stood attentive at his feet. Ash looked down at his oldest friend and recalled fondly a time when they stood at a much more equal height, a time when he used to look up to a young gym leader both literally and figuratively. But now he was a man, his boyhood dreams had matured into a legacy of success. He once stood in ignorance of a girl who loved the world with all her heart, unaware of the reflected love that he shone back on her. But now, having reached a realization that had taunted him for over a decade, he resolved to stay in Pallet Town for only one night before embarking to Cerulean City. His mind was swirling with dreams about what Misty, now a young woman herself, might look at, and her reaction to him walking once more in the gym's doors. But he could never dream of the adventure and relationship that awaited him…


	2. Chapter 1: Ash and Misty meet again

Chapter one - Ash and Misty meet again: the water-type girl

The idea that Pokemon could exist in different types – beyond mere species, gender or egg group – has been a fascinating area of study for Pokemon scholars for as long as the subject existed. Of course, the focal area of this study has always been towards effectiveness in battle, and the strategy born from this dynamic is undoubtedly one of the cornerstones of Pokemon battle. The major oversight in all researching on the subject has been the idea that such typing is limited to Pokemon. Any psychologist can tell you, every element of the natural and supernatural world rages within the human heart, too, and the conflicting passions of equally conflicting types can certainly result in a supereffective hit on the emotional health bar. Sometimes a person's type can be shrouded in mystery, held secret within their deepest ideals without ever affecting their outward personality. Just as common is the opposite, however; someone suited so clearly to their type that the feeling of it overwhelms you on first encounter. Of these, Misty was the latter.

Floating listlessly in the warm indoor pool of Cerulean City's gym, Misty's mind slowly unburdened itself of every concern and worry that the young woman once held. She was blessed in her love for water, and not a day passed where she took for granted the perfect sanctuary that it was for her. It wasn't often that someone could derive such comfort and joy from any one activity, and it was near miraculous that it could be something as common as water. She cherished every hot shower in the morning, sighed deep and happy after taking sips from any cold and clear source, and most of all, delighted in any opportunity that presented itself for a swim. She would gladly float in the gym's pool for hours if her schedule allowed it, as today it did. Her hair, grown out to her shoulders in the years since her travels with Ash, floated up in a wreath around her serene face. Her limbs drifted away from her torso as she watched, with near trancelike indifferent amusement, lungs fill and deflate with air, water's sacred counterpart of life, raising parts of her chest in and out of the water as she did so. Her skin was not yet wrinkled but was completely softened and slicked by the water. She tensed and relaxed every muscle in her body until the strength to tense them failed. In the far distance she could hear the faint sound of hooves beating down gravel, but soon that too was muted by the glorious stillness of the water.

Misty's Pokemon had always shared her affection for water and her position as gym leader lead her to build quite a collection of aquatic Pokemon. In battle, she could feel the very flow of her Pokemon's will, visualizing it in her mind as currents of water rushing about the stadium. To her, battling was as artistic and natural as the water cycle itself: water guns and whirlpools weren't just attacks but vital components in the infinite flow that circulated in her brain. In times of rest, water still remained vital for her team. Misty could think of few pleasures greater than swimming with her Pokemon, feeling a connection ocean-deep as they shared and delighted in the same element. She connected to them on their terms, not as their master, trainer or even friend, but as another collection of water in an infinite sea. The human body is comprised of over half water, it is much more accurate to view land animals as reverse divers from the sea, nourished and protected by a constant suit of water.

But today her Pokemon and sisters were both working in the city, as she had been up until their combined efforts had forced her into a day off. The last two months had been stressful to everyone on the planet, but especially for her and the other "privileged" few who felt they may understand what was happening, and even more dreadfully, often felt they had the power to do something about it. The worst was over now, but the crisis for few had now become a headache for the planet. The worst was over now, though. She whispered the words to herself in disbelief until they lost all meaning; any significance they had beyond a dispelling of air and an assortment of noises sank down to the bottom of the pool. Misty could feel her skin dissociating with the muscle tissue, the muscle tissue melting away from the bones, the bones crumbling apart and the organs dissolving in billions of tiny bubbles. Her water was becoming one with the water of the pool, her concerns, worries and all the painful memories turned meaningless and ingrained themselves with the single lone electron pair of each swirling molecule. She was completing the pool as the pool completed her; the miracle of life was being conducted at a subatomic scale in an infinite chain reaction for which she was the catalyst. Her consciousness was being ingrained in every still lake, every watchful cloud, every drifting fog, every colossal iceberg. This was the nirvana of the water type girl. Every thread connecting her to the outside world loosened and the contents of her mind flowed ripple-less into the still perfection of the pool, an endless waterfall.

The rest of the day could have drifted by for her just as the morning had, but other plans were at work. One single thought had managed to tangle itself on the way down from her mind, one image of one person. This was joined by the sound of hooves, increasing in volume. Her eyes slowly opened as the door to the pool swung open a few minutes later. The light from the glass ceiling momentarily blinded her. Silhouetted against the open door was a man in a long overcoat with a baseball cap. Presently appearing at his side was a small mouse with pointed ears and a jagged tail. The word "Ash" formed silently on her lips, and then she understood. Welling up in her eyes was salty water.

Ash and Misty meet again: the water begins to flow

Misty once again became a person as her movements began to break the glass surface of the pool. Limbs became limbs as they formed themselves in breaking strokes. With unfathomable intensity, every discarded emotion and thought was rushing up to reenter her body from every molecule in a process that was too breathtaking to be categorized as good or bad. On the short swim to the side of the pool where Ash was now standing, her mind processed the meaning of everything she had heard the last two months, washing clean her perceptions and allowing herself to judge the situation. By the time she arrived, she was smiling with tears in her eyes.

"Ash…" she sobbed as her hand interlocked with his, feeling his strong body shift back as he helped her out of the pool. She looked up at him – an unfamiliar action – and surveyed the man that stood before him. His face was dotted with the stubble of the beard of a week or a few days. A black overcoat, tarnished and near unrecognizable, hung around his shoulders. Inside these wrappings, Misty could spy a comforting hint of Ash's boyhood self – a t-shirt and blue jean outfit was still maintained through it all. His cap was recognizable but not familiar – it was red and white, but the stylistic _L_ on the front was gold. All of this was processed and almost immediately discarded by Misty's rapidly overclocking brain. Evidence that collaborated with rumors she had heard or headlines she couldn't hope to believe could have been found, but she could not even concern herself with those. The important fact was undeniably evident in flesh: Ash was alive, Ash was here with her. She burst out in tears.

Ash looked down at her too, first looking at her searching eyes but slowly becoming more aware of everything in front of him, mirroring her examination with equally surprising results. Misty had become a woman in many ways since they had last met. Her hair, wet from the morning's soak, now hung down past her shoulders, her face, once simply cute and prone to drastic swings of expression, now shone with a radiant beauty that can only truly be realized in maturity. Her body had filled out from the lean and function-defined one that she had built for tireless hiking and campfire meals. Her breasts had swelled by several cup sizes and Ash could not help but swallow as he saw them glisten with the pool's water in her taut yellow bikini. Although Ash had now surpassed her, she was taller, her legs creamy smooth and long, with soft and untarnished feet at the end. Pikachu emerged again from behind Ash's legs, and, emitting a joyful but wavering cry, ran over to Misty's embrace. It was simply too much for Ash to take in at once. The world's strongest Pokemon trainer fell to his knees to join the others in a loving hug, unashamed at the tears forming in his eyes.


	3. Chapter 1: Ash and Misty meet again p2

Ash and Misty meet again: Scattering of a mind against the wind

They were sitting across a kitchen table, a low light flickered above their emotionally exhausted faces and leaky-faucet metronome timed each dramatic pause. The soft dripping subtly cut the silence that would otherwise swallow the room. It was bleak. The wallpaper curled lazily down the wall revealing cracks in the drywall. Windows stood with shattered glass and the stale air blew uncomfortably into the room. It still smelled of ashes. Misty's house was the last in all of Cerulean City to be restored through the World Reconstruction Plan. This was by the request of Misty. She had slept in cold fields and on hard ground for years during her travels. Any sort of bed and solid shelter was a luxury she felt she could do without for the time being.

Ash took all of this in with a mixture of undeserved guilt and understated respect. He understood clearly what the extent of his involvements in the events of the past two months had been, but still felt that, when the time had come, he had not protected what actually mattered most. The thought of Misty alone in the house as the world came crushing down on her weighed heavy on his conscious, even though he knew well how capable the girl was of keeping herself safe. Everywhere he looked these days was suffering, and his ego clashed wildly with his id as he felt simultaneously negligent in his failure to prevent said suffering and utterly powerless when confronted with the reality of it. The state of Misty's house reinforced his belief that everyone was sacrificing more than he, that his very livelihood was proof of his selfishness. He silently read the room with his eyes, and then focused on Misty's searching face, trying to catch the double reflection of her true opinion of the situation. He came to several conclusions, but at last, she spoke and uncertainty faded away.

"I'm sorry about the mess." She sighed, making a sweeping gesture to the room around her. "I haven't been spending much time at home anyways. I teach preparedness classes at the gym and work on reconstruction the rest of the time. There haven't been many trainers coming through so I have most of the day free to volunteer. But I may have to change that all soon if the League pulls its funding. My sisters haven't been making that much money either, everyone has to save for necessities… there's no time for a show."

Her voice trailed off as she said this, speaking almost entirely to herself by the end. Pikachu was dozing off in a corner. Misty's Pokemon sat in their Pokeballs on the counter. They were alone again for the first time in years. Three years had past since they last spoke face to face, but before that, meetings were always brief for a long period of times. Their faces both appeared in photos of parties of mutual friends. Lunches with the old gang, weddings, funerals… their paths crossed time and time again, but had never run exclusively parallel for over half a decade. Imagine a runner taking beautiful strides along route winding through a scenic vista with a destination of unparalleled beauty. Imagine the ground cutting out from underneath him for a period of five years. Imagine that very same ground rushing up to meet him after these unfeasibly long freefall. It is still beautiful beyond description but there is no conceivable way to avoid the vertigo-induced terror that accompanies its familiarity.

And this is how it would be for the two of them on a sunny day as they walked together through that scenic vista, stumbling in fear as the first initial shock passed through their gravitationally-crippled bodies, but slowly regaining the confidence and competence needed to continue into that glorious sunset. But two months ago, the very seam of humanity was torn open. They were plummeting towards the scenic vista on which they had walked six years ago, but fire blackened its surface and smoke billowed in their faces. And when they landed, the impact was deadened by incomprehensible relief, shock, confusion, expectation and surprise, each emotion amplified by years of separation and months of pure chaos.

Silence again began to spread out from the table between them, punctuated by the dripping of the tap chiming dissonant in the melody of their breath. Misty once again broke it, speaking softly at first but raising her voice as her thoughts aligned themselves within her brain. The focus of her words shifted from herself to Ash. She was overjoyed with relief to find Ash still alive, and his mere presence was enough to stir up old feelings that she didn't fully understand all those years ago and were even more difficult to interpret now. Her heart had already decided on the answer she would hear from him, regardless of what he actually said. With the fateful question in her mind, she let her inner suffering manifest itself in words and stream out of her mouth, frantically directing it towards her queries.

"The last few months have been tough on me, tough on nearly everyone," she stated needlessly "the incident has left my mind completely frayed. It's the same all around. People are walking around like zombies. Their minds have been thrown into the wind by them and they seem to be at the mercy everything around them. It is a terrifying thing for an entire species to feel like they've lost control over what they considered to be their world. I wonder if Pokemon felt this way when humans first came to be… but that doesn't really matter now.

"I feel like my mind has just been… drifting in and out. At first I thought it was the stress but I think there is definitely something happening to the minds of everyone around here. We've been building houses, preparing for whatever might happen next, but no one seems to really understand. We're just going through motions. It's like our actions have been completely separated from our emotions and our emotions have detached from our thoughts. But that still doesn't really matter…

"It seems like the last time I really felt awake was during the incident itself! Ash, do you even understand how I was feeling that night? It was terror beyond any other, terror manifesting itself as infinite understanding. It is one thing to fear the unknown, but as I watched the mountains themselves bend inward and the night sky burst into flames, I feel I knew only too well that I was living my last night. And all over the world this was happening! Flooding covered skyscrapers! Buildings buckled under invisible weights! It was indescribably horrific, like something out of a movie!

"And Ash," Misty continued, tears stinging as they filled her eyes, "you've read the newspapers, you know what they're saying! 'Pokemon League tournament becomes epicenter of globe-shaking disaster'! 'Top-ranked trainers unable to control new ultra-powerful Pokemon, disastrous results'! 'Combatants Ash Ketchum, 23, and Gary Oak, 23, unleash catastrophic attacks during League match'! Ash, what are they saying?! How could they think this?!"

Ash had been staring at the chipped plastic surface of the kitchen table the entire time and continued to as he slowly answered her questions.

"They think that… because it's all true."


	4. Chapter 2: The Events of Two Months Prio

The Events of Two Months Prior: The Journey to Mt. Silver

A winding dirt path lay in front of Ash, nearly identical to the one he had left, and not unlike the miles of path he had already crossed since he had left Viridian City that morning. Clutched in his hand were two letters: one he had received a week prior, unsigned and untraceable, only mentioning a location he was quickly approaching and a time occurring later that night; the other came two days later, from Cynthia, containing a few details she had managed to determine regarding the first letter. Pikachu sat up against his back, nestled from the wind by his jacket, but took no opportunity to rest. Ash could feel his partner's determination spark restlessly. He could feel a similar determination as he gripped the mane of his Tauros and felt the rhythmic pounding of its hooves on the dirt below them. Ash's mind was swirling vortex of conflicting emotions and expectations, but underneath that was an undeniable drive to continue forward into the darkness.

The journey took the better part of the day. The setting sun silhouetted the peak of Mt. Silver as Ash crossed over one final hill. In the far distance behind it, he could see the more commonly traveled road which, led into the land of Johto, but some sort of roadblock of upturned earth seemed to have been placed there to block it off. The oddness of this registered in Ash's head for an instant but was quickly displaced by more pressing concerns. Cynthia's note: a transcript of the mysterious message he had received a week earlier. Did you get this too? Please meet me there. I think this could be trouble. I may need your help.

Cynthia asking for help. The Cynthia who had only softly smiled as Pikachu fired thunderbolt after thunderbolt uselessly into her Garchomp. The Cynthia who took his hand in the center of the packed arena and whispered a soft condolence. Champion Cynthia. Invincible Cynthia. For weeks her image taunted him from each newspaper front page, her words seared irreversibly into his eardrums. "Has the potential to be a great trainer." Potential? Ash had been Kanto champion for the better part of a decade before the world's tournament took place; he had made it all the way to the finals. Where did she find the nerve? He was the people's champion, beloved by the world over. He had defeated Team Rocket. He had contributed more to the research of Pokemon through his travels than any other trainer in the last century. He had probably saved the entire planet a half dozen times. What had she done? These spiteful feelings rose in Ash every time he thought of that humiliating day, and almost caused him to rip up the letter right there. He didn't necessarily hate Cynthia enough to not help her if his help was actually needed. He didn't even know her that well. He was bitter over his defeat, bitter enough to give up the Kanto champion's seat, but was also inspired by her strength enough to train for a year, so that he might one day challenge her again. And after that year of dedication and hardship, but most of all progress, it was not his triumphant return to the competitive Pokemon circuit that brought them together, but this letter? He didn't know what to feel.

But the last line of the note was enough. "Gary may be in trouble." What could he make of that? He tried to mentally arrange these conflicting desires of retribution and concern. Tried to find one undercurrent of compromise. Tried to abandon pettiness and focus on what he could do to help. But what could he do to help? What could this possibly be, to have troubled the world champion, to have endangered the current Kanto champion, to have tracked him down and sent him that note? The mystery was enough to pull him across half a continent to this menacing mountain in the night. But what could he do, what was the answer? There was none: the blackness that now swallowed the peak of Mt. Silver gave no reply, and Ash could only fling himself forward into the fateful night.

The Events of Two Months Prior: The Tournament

It was the stadium of his dreams: sleek silver-white metal wrapped its shell, round and acutely tilted, mirrored convex and smooth, like the bottom half of a porcelain egg cup. The rim was punctuated with tall light stands, their multiple bulbs shining down on the inside, their beams overlapping in the very center. One door entered into the lower dome, one staircase lead up into the upper dish, empty and silent. Thousands of seats circled the arena. Plastic covered them. The floor was a dusty packed earth with a Pokeball painted in white in the middle. It had never been disturbed. The great shadow of Mt. Silver draped across the stands, the far side of it illuminated by the clear and giant moon. Pikachu at his shoulder and Pokeballs at his side, Ash climbed the stairs and stood with mouth agape. His mind had been cleared with awe. The stillness and silence was overwhelming, so much that he did not hear the footsteps of sense the movement of Cynthia until she was standing right next to him.

When he turned to her, all of his spite and shame were minuscule by confusion. The questions began piling up in his mind, but he could tell by Cynthia's face that she had no answers. They both stood in silence, taking in the incomprehensible setting that they found themselves in. A noise came from behind them, and they both spun around to face it. A figure was rising from the upper stands, obscured completely by the brilliance of the lights behind him. A soft clunk rang out as he set down a long object on his seat. He reached up to adjust his tie as he began to speak in a clear, powerful baritone:

"Construction began eleven months ago and was completed roughly three months prior to this encounter. The additional delay at the end," he paused here to clear his throat, "was for entirely sentimental reasons. The entire project was done in secrecy, or what could be considered - for all practical reasons - to be secrecy. We did have observers, but their poor choices will lead to their observations being irrelevant after tonight." Ash looked over at Cynthia, who sharply inhaled at these words.

Her shout rang out – "What is the meaning of this?" – but the man just chuckled softly and waved his hand as if to blow the question away.

"The meaning of this is extraordinarily simple." More chuckling. "It is to facilitate revenge. One year ago we were to witness a first – the Pokemon world championship! Although, of course, my present company certainly did much more than witness it. Oh, it was quite the event, wasn't it? The search for the world's greatest trainer? I would have gladly attended myself, and competed too, but I was in a very compromising situation at that immediate time. And I regretted it too, for I am not above such commonplace dreams of being the best that ever was!

"But this desire, this longing for the unattainable, it was to be quite the theme of the tournament, no? The Kanto hero and champion, coming all the way to dazzling Sunyshore – oh, but the local legend was simply on another tier, wasn't she, Ash? And the media loved it! They couldn't very well paint Cynthia as a villain – no, that would be far too outlandish – so they went with an even more charming portrait: the master and student! How marketable and relatable, but none too dignified for the now-boy who had thought himself quite the man, right, Ash? Ah, but think of those that were even further below you, or were you too overwhelmed by your own shame to at least childe the ego of others? I'm speaking of the champion by forfeit, the impostor on the throne, and the man entering the room at this moment, for his revenge is also key to this little plot."

Ash and Cynthia turned, and shivered as they saw the look of twisted glee on Gary's face. "Do you understand now?" the man continued, louder and faster than before "We have a nice little party of four. I think the four most powerful trainers on the planet, if you'll forgive my pride. Really, the only four trainers who even matter to me! Isn't that just wonderful? And we're going to figure out the best! That is a question that is on all of your minds, isn't it? I'm quite curious too. So I think we should probably just get that started before we do anything else, shouldn't we?" His last lines were accompanied by the soft slapping of his Pokeball landing on his hand as he casually tossed it into the air, slowly quieted by his increasingly manic laughter.


	5. Chapter 2 p2

The Events of Two Months Prior: The Plan

Cynthia's face had curled into a scowl during the man's speech, and at it's conclusion she ineffectively stomped a foot down in an attempt to silence him. Eventually he sighed and wiped away tears from his face, but by this point Gary had walked up chuckling to stand next to the pair, placing his hand on his bewildered rival's shoulders.

"I know you're grateful for another shot at the crown, Ash" he sneered, "but you shouldn't thank me. Not when I'm about to crush you where you stand."

Cynthia glanced sideways at Gary, never fully turning from the man in the stands. "You shouldn't be here," she said testily, "you shouldn't have come."

"What? How could I miss this?" Gary laughed harder.

Cynthia turned sharply from him, facing the man in the stands again. "And the place you mentioned in the letter... you didn't really take him _there_, did you?"

Not waiting for the man to respond, Gary continued boastfully, "Of course we went there. It was fantastic. Ash, you should have come. No wait, you shouldn't have. I don't think you're quite ready for it."

Cynthia and Ash were both baffled – Cynthia at the audacity of this man's action, Ash at every single thing said in the last several minutes. His old rivalry with Gary was insignificant to his rational brain, but it cut at him in the most childlike places in his core, opening up old wounds and setting his mind back a solid decade. "I'm ready for anything you are!" he snapped back instinctively. Gary flashed a smug smirk and removed a Pokeball from his jacket pocket.

Hands grasped at both of their collars with surprising strength as Cynthia pushed them apart. She was astonished at their behaviour but knew they had not yet realized the severity of their situation. In fact, she wasn't even sure that she did. She looked back up at the man, intending to demand answers or forcefully leave with the boys. Gary was an especially confusing element. She couldn't predict what might have happened to him over the last few weeks, and she understood how easily he could manipulate Ash. The last thing she wanted was to be the only one against the idea of the mysterious tournament. Of course, she reluctantly considered, she wouldn't be at a disadvantage by any stretch if it actually came to that, and she laughed inwardly at the idea that this man's plan could revolve around defeating her, the world champion.

As if sensing this, the man spoke to her. "You did the right thing to try to cool those boys down. Their match won't be until after ours. Would you like to begin?". He grinned widely, his teeth glinting in the stadium lights.

"As if I'd take part in this perverse exhibition!" Cynthia shouted back. She bit her lip, aware that she had lost her cool. She was stunned at the gall of this man, the way he talked with such assumption and certainty. In him she detected the derangement of a sociopath – his actions endangering Gary were proof enough of that – but what really struck her as unbelievable, almost inhuman, was the way he delivered his letters and informed her of his intentions with such openness and confidence. In retrospect, it seemed like she could have stopped him at any number of crucial stages with relative ease, but she didn't take him seriously enough. And now things had progressed so far because of her pride, her inability to think that anyone could have broken into the cave through her protection, her confidence that she would be able to stop it in time without having to run around stopping construction or rescuing some kid. Or had he counted on that? Had he known that he could get away with so much more if he had challenged her with his plan instead of trying to sneak it by her? She was terrified by this prospect, and she could not see how he could possibly have manipulated her to this extent when, to her knowledge, they had never met. Looking up at him, though, seeing how much he had achieved and his assured attitude that his plan would continue, she could not believe anything else to be the truth. But who could this man possibly be?

He seemed to have sensed this as well, as he presently walked down the stands and stepped into the light. Cynthia looked at him without recognition: he was tall, middle aged or maybe slightly older with short black hair, clad in a fine suit jacket and flat black pants. Everything about him seemed to suck the light out of the surrounding area in a indescribably unsettling way. Cynthia turned to Ash, who had gone ghost pale and seemed to be in stunned disbelief. He turned to Cynthia with an outstretched hand. "My apologizes ma'am," he said calmly, "I often forget that I managed to keep my face out of the papers through this whole affair. This boy, though," he continued, looking to Ash with a smile, "is the one who sent me to jail for some miserable years. He clearly remembers me. Perhaps he can handle these introductions."

Ash stuttered. The fire that had roared up all so recently with his encounters with Gary was entirely doused and he felt the weight of the ashes in the pit of his stomach. Pikachu quivered between his legs. "How did you..." he began stuttering "where did you... why did you..."

The man laughed, with Gary joining on echoed harmony. "I believe the words the boy is looking for," he chucked, "is that I managed one of Kanto's most illustrious Gyms for many years, ran many renowned businesses and services, and, according to the media, I may have held the position of boss or kingpin or Don of the Team Rocket Crime syndicate at one point or another." At this last point, Cynthia's eyes widened and Giovanni delighted in the horror this realization had brought her. He turned back to Ash. "As for you, I can't believe a smart lad like you didn't see this coming. You were fighting with a hydra, boy. Just because you thought you had cut off all the heads didn't mean there weren't twice as many ready to come back at you. But I think we've wasted enough time here. I believe we had some sort of 'perverse exhibition' to get underway."

Cynthia stared at him in flustered disbelief. "No!" she shouted, "even more not now! We're leaving! We're contacting the authorities! We're..."

But Giovanni brought up a hand to cut her short. "The authorities," he began "have undoubtedly been contacted many times over about this incident. But I wouldn't be holding my breath for them. This remote location," at this point he lowered his head and talked in a sly tone with an eyebrow raised "combined with a few friends in the right places blocking the right transmissions," back upright "have rendered this arena totally unacceptable except to the four of us. Now, I mentioned the right transmissions to block, but what's really more important is having friends to let the right transmissions through to the right people." At this, he reached into his pocket, pulling out and activating a remote. A wall slid down on the far side of the arena, revealing a huge televison screen, that, after some flickering, displayed the four of them.

"This image, by my estimate, currently appears in several million households. Of course, in this technological age, there might be those that will be unable to accept what they are seeing as the truth, and perhaps even more that won't understand the full impact of what they are seeing, but still a million people will. Do you understand now, Cynthia, what a million people will think if you walk away now and I continue on my merry way doing," he chuckled "whatever it is I feel like doing, when you so clearly could have ended it here? I'm giving you all an opportunity here, and I'm not just doing it because it's convenient for my plan. I'm doing it because since my plan can be completed through four top tier trainers going all out in Pokemon battles with a natural and unforced outcome. And I truly think that is a beautiful thing. If this doesn't go as I planned, I don't deserve the outcome I'm hoping for. That is what I honestly believe. That must sound appealing, right, Cynthia? Because I know you have absolute confidence in your abilities. That's why you're the best. If you try to walk away from this, what does that say about you? What does that say about your Pokemon? About Ash? About Gary?"

He was manipulating her and the boys with one stroke, playing off their pride and letting their insecurities trickle down. She understood that she was playing into his hands, but she could not even conceive the possibility of losing if he played fairly, and she was somehow convinced that he would. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a Pokeball with trembling hands. Giovanni began to toss the one he was still holding into the air. "Beautiful." he said with sincere appreciation when he noticed the ball in her hand. "Ash, Gary, please make yourself comfortable in the stands. I hope this match to be worthy of your attention."

The two walked to the stands and took a seat some distance apart. Gary leaned back smugly, and smirked at Ash, who felt like he was on the verge of vomiting. Pikachu sat on his shoulder, distraught plastered on his trembling face. Giovanni and Cynthia walked to either ends of the stadium and threw their Pokeballs. A Milotic slid elegantly out of Cynthia's Pokeball, leaping into the sky and arcing gracefully before smoothly landing on the ground, a sharp contrast to the Golem lumbering out of Giovanni's Pokeball. Giovanni smiled, wide and thin: "Truly wonderful."


End file.
